


Black Blaster War

by squireofgeekdom



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:43:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6353881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squireofgeekdom/pseuds/squireofgeekdom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jedi General Will Laurence names his new clone captain, has several uncomfortable conversations, helps save a city, meets a new ally, and has several more uncomfortable conversations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Blaster War

**Author's Note:**

> jewishdragon prompted me for Jedi Laurence and Smuggler Tharkay on tumblr and it spiraled into this.

The deployment of the 471st battalion becomes something of a complicated affair.

General William Laurence had expected to be receiving the new clone commander he was to be working with at 0900 hours. 

At 0700 hours, the Allegiance receives a distress call.

They find the clone transport under attack by two Separatist warships - surely overkill for a lone transport ship. 

Questioning the merits of the Separatists tactical decisions is the furthest thing from Laurence’s mind as he stands on the bridge of the Allegiance, next to Captain Riley, trying to daub the blood away from his forehead from an ill-timed collision with the controls of his Delta-7 during the battle. They’ve successfully evacuated the clone battalion to the Allegiance, away from their damaged transport, after having driven the Separatists away. 

“Sir,” 

One of the clones has made his way to the bridge. As he removes his helmet, he reveals an earnest, unexpectedly young face, and something trills in the Force.

“Ah, yes,” Laurence removes his hand from his forehead. “My apologies, I had meant to introduce myself earlier, however - “ He holds out the less-bloodstained of his two hands. “General Will Laurence. This is Captain Tom Riley”

“CT-5757.” The clone says, returning the handshake. 

“Ah. Yes.” Laurence says, feeling blood drip down into his eyebrow. “I’m sorry, Commander, I understood that clones typically used nicknames for more, ah, informal address? I would -”

“Yes, normally we would sir. However, we deployed relatively early, and many of our division don’t have names yet, including myself.” He’s clearly trying to stay at attention, but he still fidgets uncomfortably. “You’d be welcome to give me a name yourself, though, sir.” He says a little more brightly.

Laurence looks at Riley, who shrugs almost imperceptibly. “I - I was given to understand that such names were traditionally given among clones, I wouldn’t wish to impose -” 

“Oh, no, sir, it’s no trouble. Some of us get our names from the trainers on Kamino, or even the Jedi deployed there, sometimes. Though I understand if you prefer to use my CT number.” He adds hastily, with the air of someone who did not understand but had had it drilled into him to expect such behavior. 

“If it would be no imposition, I -” He rests his hand on his lightsaber, not out of any instinct for violence, but simply to ground himself, to reach though the core of the lightsaber to the Force. And there was that trill again - “Temeraire. That is to say - what would you think of -”

“Temeraire.” The clone trooper tilts his head. “I believe I quite like it.”

“Well then,” Laurence extends a hand again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Commander Temeraire.”

\---

He has very little peace to become acquainted with his new battalion, as Republic intelligence quickly discovers that the Separatist Battleships that had harried the 471st’s transport were part of a major Separatist plan of invasion on Kamino itself. 

“ - yes, we must go back to Kamino, because they are attacking our friends and our brothers, and if we do not help they will kill or hurt them, even the young ones and the ones still in tanks.” Laurence overhears Temeraire telling his troops, and he feels a little swell of pride at his commander’s initiative. 

“Why are they attacking Kamino?” Temeraire asks him, privately, afterwards. “No one on Kamino is fighting them.”

“They wish to cut off our supply of troops by sabotaging the facility.” Laurence tells him. “It could perhaps be compared to Republic attacks on Seperatist droid manufacturing plants, though their attack is all the more criminal for there are civilians and sentient beings inside the Kamino facility.”

“Are droids not sentient? Only AZ3 said -”

“It is -” Laurence continues, feeling he has quite quickly found himself out of his depth. “a matter of some Galactic debate, however, it is general considered that the Separatist droids do not develop sentience, no. And,” He adds, returning to stronger philosophical footing “The Jedi believe that the Force flows through all living beings, including clones.”

“Hmm. That is rather nice to know. The Force seems like quite a useful thing.” Temeraire considers. “Only, if the Separatists are attacking Kamino because they think the men there will fight against them, could they simply agree not to? Many of them are rather young, you see, and not in a position to defend themselves. It is not that I do not wish to fight,” He adds, hastily, “but perhaps there are more useful battles, elsewhere? It would be quite nice to see more of the galaxy.”

“Er, well - is this not something the instructors discussed with you on Kamino?” 

“Oh, they tried to, but their answers were quite unsatisfactory. I know that we were made to fight for the Republic to fight the Separatists, but I know nothing of either the Republic or the Separatists, or why one should fight for one against the other, or why being ‘made’ means one cannot do as one likes. Though,” He adds, perhaps in an attempt to be conciliatory. “the Separatists did attack my brothers, when we were only travelling, so I suppose they cannot be that nice. And they are attacking the children on Kamino.” He finishes with some rancor.

“Well -” Laurence had only ever received a holo briefing on the clone army, which had left him, he now realizes, woefully unprepared. “The Jedi Council ordered the clone army from the Kamioans in order to defend the Republic, so I suppose one might say that the clones are property of the Republic, and thus obligated to fight. However,” he continues, “I would hope that you would come to serve the Republic for a nobler purpose, out of a sense of duty.”

“Duty?” Temeraire asks, with a quizzical tilt of the head.

Laurence reaches up to adjust his queue. “Yes. Er - a sense of devotion and - necessary service to a worthy cause - greater than oneself. Myself, I have been raised as a Jedi, and have a duty to serve the Jedi Order, and through them the Republic. Therefore, I choose to turn my skills to the defence of the Republic.”

“Out of - duty?”

“Yes.” Laurence says with a little sigh of relief. 

Temeraire considers. Laurence cannot help but be relieved at the break in the onslaught.

“What makes the Republic a worthy cause, then? More so than the Separatists, that is.”

Laurence strives for a chuckle. “You are already far too political for my limited knowledge. The Jedi,” He adds as Temeraire appears confused. “Tend to stay out of political matters, I myself have been on Coruscant very little, not since before the war.”

“But if the war is political, and the Jedi are not, is it not possible that you have chosen the wrong side?”

“No, of course not.” Laurence insists. “It is not so extreme a divide as all that. All Jedi know that the Republic is a force for justice and order in the galaxy, and that they seek to defend their citizens as all Jedi seek to defend the innocent. The Separatists seek to sow chaos, and encourage each world to act in their own self interest, out of a belief that the Republic has failed them. They give no thought to the greater good, and the sacrifices we each must make in the name of our duty. Also,” For this was a point that was quite clear to him, and he hoped would appeal to Temeraire’s evident sense of fairness. “It is well known that the Separatists were the initial aggressors, having kidnapped several Jedi on diplomatic missions, just as -” He builds on the point with more confidence. “Just as they are the aggressors in attacking Kamino, and your brothers.”

“Ah, well, in that case.” Temeraire answers. 

\----

Temeraire is the best wingmate he could have dreamed of. It seems impossible that their first flight together, the balance feels like something built from years, decades perhaps, service not lost, merely forgotten. The battle over Kamino is a blaze, with Laurence and Temeraire one small spark of the fire that drives the Separatists into hyperspace.

The battle to reclaim the surface is different.

Laurence is separated from his battalion - from Temeraire - his lightsaber a lone blue light in the corridor filled with the strobing red lights of alarms. One battle droid alone is no challenge to him, even a dozen pose no threat, but the corridor is crowded and he can’t see how many more are coming.

When he catches the gleam of metal in the blue light of his saber, he immediately assumes droid, but the figure that ducks fluidly through the corridor immediately targets the droids, dodging blaster fire and tossing out disruptors, sending the droids crashing to the floor in a tangle of blue lightning. Indistinctly, Laurence sees another metal shadow diving through the droids, sending them careening. 

Pulling himself away from the interruption, he returns to cutting down the droids. With the newcomer at his back, they clear the corridor efficiently. The sounds of blaster bolts and clanking feet die away, but the red alarm lights remain.

When Laurence turns, breathing heavily, to face the newcomer, the red lights shine off of metal. Raising his lightsaber, he casts the man’s face into light.

The metal he had mistaken initially for another droid is clearly revealed as an artificial eye and half of a faceplate. The man is a cyborg, Laurence realizes with a jolt.

The lights flicker back to white-fluorescent life, the generator restored. Laurence and the newcomer stare at each other across the blade of his lightsaber for a brief moment before he deactivates it. 

One dark eye crinkles at the edge with wry humor. “Well met, Master Jedi.”

Laurence returns his lightsaber to his belt and extends a hand. “Master Laurence, though I suppose General is more applicable these days.”

“Tharkay,” The newcomer replies, holding up the stump of an arm. From down the corridor, a small droid flies towards it, perching on the stump before reassembling into a metallic forearm. He returns Laurence’s gesture, and Laurence shakes his hand unflinchingly, the cold metal a sharp contrast to his calloused palm.

As Tharkay releases his hand, Laurence draws his eyes away from Tharkay’s face long enough to see the dark stain of blood at his side. “Sir, you’ve been injured.”

“Some time ago.” Tharkay notes.

“No - you’ve been shot.”

Tharkay ducks his head to look. “Merely a graze.” 

“You’ll need medical attention - we’ll have to find the infirmary, but first I need to find my -”

“General!”

“Temeraire!” Laurence turns around, relieved. “I am sorry - I was separated. How are the men?” 

“It is nothing, I am glad you are unharmed.” Temeraire says. “The casualties are low, though Iskierka managed to land herself in the infirmary, already - Tharkay!”

“Hello, Temeraire, is it?” Tharkay says, and Temeraire nods. “I’m glad you have a name now. I must confess I did not expect to see you again so soon.”

“Laurence gave me my name!” Temeraire says. 

“Well, it seems a fine one, if you like it.” Tharkay shoots a calculated look at Laurence. “An old warship, wasn’t it?”

“She survived some of the worst battles of the Old Republic.” Laurence says, with a little defensiveness. “I saw her once, they were moving her for a historical display on Coruscant. Still as whole and grand as at the start of the war. I am sorry,” he adds. “I neglected to mention the history of the name - if it is a concern -”

“No, I still quite like it. The history is interesting. Is there perhaps any way that I might read about it?”

“Of course - I am sure I could find some holos - I’m sorry -” He turns back to Tharkay. “You’re injured, Temeraire - do you know where the infirmary is?”

“No need for the infirmary, I have medical supplies on my ship.” 

“But surely -”

“The Kaminoans are firm believers in biological enhancement over mechanical. I’d prefer to wake up with my body as it is, as if they would agree to treat a cyborg at all. My own medical supplies will suffice.”

“At least let us assist you.”

Tharkay looks at him, evaluating. “If you insist.”

As they start to walk down the hallway, Tharkay is upright, though Laurence can’t help but note how his flesh hand presses against his side with each step, and how his knuckles go pale.

“I wasn’t aware that you two had met.” Laurence says, breaking the sound of their three sets of footfalls.

“Oh, yes, Tharkay is one of the trainers for the cadets here - the very best.”

“I’m flattered.” Tharkay says. He looks back at Laurence. “You’ll find that, as the Jedi cannot be spared, they’ve been more than willing to hire all sorts of scum to help train their Army.”

Laurence is a little taken aback, but attempts to recover quickly. “Well, as the 471st has been quite capable, I must thank you for your service.” 

Temeraire, he notes, preens slightly at the praise of his battalion. 

“Not all of us can have the Force to keep us alive in war.” Tharkay responds. 

Laurence bites back his response - that the Jedi are dying in the war as well - instead trying to focus on getting Tharkay to medical attention. 

They step out into the rain - thankfully light - to the ramp of Tharkay’s ship. Once inside, Tharkay makes a respectable attempt at appearing controlled as he sits down, but the pain is evident in how his mouth tightens, even if the plating around his artificial eye reveals no feeling.

“Ah, Temeraire -” Tharkay asks, looking up, “there’s a medkit in the aft bay, if you could -”

“Of course!” Temeraire dashes off into the ship. 

Once he is out of earshot, Laurence turns to Tharkay. “I am sorry, sir, I do not know if I have given offence -”

Tharkay lets out a huff of laughter. “It’s not I who should be offended, but Temeraire, so perhaps I am merely offended on his behalf.” When Laurence looks uncomprehending, Tharkay adds. “However much kindness you treat him with, it does not change the fact that he has been created to be part of the engine of your war, an expendable cog.” Tharkay’s flesh hand rubs along the metal wrist of his mechanical one. “His life will never be treated with the same value as yours, not by the Republic, nor by the Jedi.” 

“Perhaps not by the Jedi, but this Jedi certainly will.” Laurence says defiantly. “I can tell you now that I would no sooner sacrifice Temeraire than I would any comrade.”

Tharkay gifts him with a small, skeptical, smile. “Then, perhaps, Master Jedi, I am wrong in judging you as a representative of your institution. The robes of the Jedi tend to blend together after a while.”

“Why work for an institution that you look on with such scorn?” Laurence asks.

Tharkay shrugs, wincing a little. “I cannot stop them being marched into battle, I may as well see that they have the best chance of surviving this war as I can. Besides, the credits are good.” He adds nonchalantly.

The conversation is ended with the return of Temeraire, who quickly helps to extract bacta patches from the medkit and lay them over Tharkay’s wounded side. 

“Are you injured anywhere else?” Temeraire asks. 

“I am quite alright, thank you Temeraire.”

The tinny beeps of his communicator distract Laurence from the remainder of the exchange. 

“General? General, are you there?”

“Yes, Lieutenant Granby, what is it?”

“Message incoming from Captain Riley,”

“I’ll take it here, Granby - if it’s no imposition, Tharkay -” Tharkay shakes his head. “Thank you, Granby.”

Tom Riley’s figure wavers into existence in the hologram. “Sir, we’re receiving urgent orders to return to Coruscant.”

“By all means Captain Riley, I’ll make preparations for the 471st to return to the Reliant -”

Riley is shaking his head. “No, sir - the Separatists mined the hyperlane. It’s two months at sublight to get back to the next connection.”

Laurence lowers his head. “I’ll inform the Council.”

Tharkay coughs lightly to interrupt. “Well, perhaps, General, this means we haven’t seen the last of each other.”

“Pardon?”

Tharkay smiles, the metal side of his face gleaming in the ship’s lights. “I know another hyperlane.”


End file.
